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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29224818">ZenoHika Week Winter 2021 - Day 6: The Shadows between the Stars</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivelia/pseuds/Ivelia'>Ivelia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>ZenoHika Week Winter 2021 [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, F/M, ZenoHika Week (Final Fantasy XIV), ZenoHika Week Winter 2021 (Final Fantasy XIV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:08:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,670</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29224818</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivelia/pseuds/Ivelia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my entry for the Day Six of ZenoHika Week Winter 2021 \o/<br/>The prompts for this are "SciFi AU / Orbit / Bloodshed" so today's protagonists are:</p><blockquote>
  <p>"Sidelined mecha pilot" WoL x "Imperial ace commander" Zenos.</p>
</blockquote>With these prompts, it couldn't not end up in a Mecha AU... I wanted to see something like that since that 2019 April Fools manga; SE did deliver a bit with the Werlyt quest line, but still xD<br/>"Are mecha a realistic weapon for warfare?",  "Is it super, or is it real?"<br/>Don't think about this too much, let's follow the rule of cool \o/
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>ZenoHika Week Winter 2021 [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2135964</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>ZenoHika Week Winter 2021 - Day 6: The Shadows between the Stars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Same formula as for the previous days, I do have more ideas for this, but... it's already kinda big xD<br/>Maybe it's done, maybe it's not xD</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The young engineer tried really hard to contain his giddiness, but wasn’t really making a good job of it. But after all, who could blame him? It wasn’t everyday that a nobody like him could help with the maintenance of the legendary G-Warrior Mk. XIV. When he had been assigned to this small military base overlooking this unnamed F-class planet on the outskirts of the civilised world, he thought that his career was over before it even started -not that he expected more, given his barely passable grades at the Neo-Studium. So when he found out that the commander of this godforsaken hole was the acclaimed Warrior of Light herself, the one who had played a pivotal role in the Eorzea-Garlemald conflict, in ending the Dragonsong War, the Liberation of Ala Mhigo, and many other glorious deeds, he had been beside himself with joy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now, as her previous dedicated engineer had quit, he was even able to assist her in maintaining her machine. Well, assist… She was too possessive of her personal unit to let anyone else touch it, and even now, she was balanced on a stepladder, checking the state of the artificial fibers in the machine’s leg and tuning them -a menial task she wouldn’t even leave to the maintenance personnel- but he was able to see how the anthropomorphic weapon had been modified from the base specifications, and ask questions about it, so this still was an invaluable experience for him. In return, he just had to hand her some tools  from time to time. Speaking of which… The clatter of something falling on the floor drew him out of his reverie:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Can you pass this back to me, please.” A slightly annoyed voice asked from above. It seemed that the portable terminal she was using had slipped from her grasp. She conscientiously flexed her fingers before extending her hand, and he carefully handed her the device, pretending to ignore her slightly embarrassed and vexed face as she made sure that she was holding the item properly before retrieving it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Phantom Neural dysfunction</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was an affliction that was pretty common in the wee hours of direct neural interfaces: it was frequent for the pioneers of the technology to end up with something described as a severe desynchronisation between body and mind, as the early neural interface implants were parasitizing or adding noise in the natural connection, but nowadays, only grievous accidents from faulty material or usage could leave after-effects. A former ace like her should have only used prime quality machines so… He remembered how the first thing she did as part of this routine maintenance was “checking that all limiters could be smoothly disabled”... So it was probably reckless piloting? Those heroic feats did come with a price...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though this did not affect the pilot’s ability to control a mech, it was still considered a battle wound leading to an early discharge and a cushy retirement; but the stern Elezen did not seem to be the type to agree to this. Probably the reason why she was stationed here in the middle of nowhere. It was a bit of a tragic ending for a hero, sidelined and reduced to supervise a bunch of losers, but… On the other hand, without these circumstances, he would never have been able to meet his idol.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- (She even touched my hand!) In her slightly uncontrolled movement, her fingers had brushed against his. He considered never washing this hand ever again, but a sudden pain on the top of his head interrupted his random thoughts as she bonked his cranium with the device.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “You were definitely thinking of something gross right now.” He was about to deny, but she silenced him by poking his mouth with the tip of the terminal, and added: “And right now, you were about to talk back. For this, you have 150 seconds to give me 100 pushups; I will know if you used your suit’s enhancements, and I will make you regret being born.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>- (Ah.) He understood what his soldier roommates meant about her being actually an “evil old hag”, “the demon itself”, and everything in between. As he executed his punishment exercises, he realized that her draconian training methods were probably the reason why most new recruits in this base quit early in spite of the stiff penalties. Those who didn’t, after 6 months or so here, had a fighting level that was way too high for an outskirt base where the dregs of the military institutions were exiled, according to the average battle simulation scores he had seen. But… He was just an engineer, so why discipline him as well?!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While he was complaining silently, the emergency siren suddenly resounded. The  young engineer raised his head hopefully, but his torturer dropped a laconic:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Proper form. That’s 100 more squats for you.” However, her fingers started flying faster over her terminal, until a cold, metallic voice started looping, announcing:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- [All combat personnel are required to report to their battle stations. This is not a drill, I repeat...] She clicked her tongue, annoyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Deployment orders? What the heck is this old man thinking…” She once again felt a pair of pitiful eyes on her. “You are not combat personnel. I will </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She put away her device and as she started walking towards the space station’s main bridge, she added: “And once you’re done, prepare the G-Warrior for launch.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The lone chair dominating the bridge of the Garlean mothership swivelled slowly, revealing the man responsible for this emergency nonchalantly seated on it. Zenos yae Galvus, crown prince of the Garlean Empire, and commander of the operation to gain control of Planet F6501487. To be honest, having him take part in such a mission was akin to using a sledgehammer to crack a nut -completely overkill-, and he was bored every second of it. After all, he was mostly here to ensure that their newly developed “Allagan Jammer” technology stayed a well protected secret, that is to say, that none of their conscripts soldiers would abscond with any information related to it, and that none of their enemies would survive having seen it in action, his presence serving as a deterrent to would be traitors and motivation to the others. As for the actual operation, the use of this miracle technology should have made seizing F6501487 a routine task, however...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde commander only had to look fixedly at his subordinates for them to crumble under the weight of his silent question -</span>
  <em>
    <span>why this taking so long</span>
  </em>
  <span>. This should have been an affair of minutes, yet the battle had been dragging on for at least a quarter of an hour. The officer standing before him really wanted to cry. Taking control of the Eorzean Alliance base overseeing the planet should have been as easy as to steal a candy from a baby, but…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “We encountered unusual resistance from the enemy defenses assigned to this planet” He could only cry about his misfortune of meeting such unexpectedly tough opponents; no amount of excuses could spare him from his fate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Even with their Allagan Command Cores disrupted?” The Eorzean Alliance had long been lagging behind in terms of number and quality of pilots manning their humanoid armors, which was logical, considering that their Garlean Empire could rely on its foreign conscripts to bolster its ranks, and train them as harshly as it was necessary to create an elite army. But since the Eorzeans started relying on Garlond Ironworks-produced “Allagan Command Cores”, the ease of use and manoeuvrability of their mobile armors had increased by leaps and bounds -especially compared to their previous piloting systems that required the extensive use of direct neural interfaces- and were now able to contend with Garlean armies. On the other hand, it became pretty rare to see Eorzean pilots able to fight efficiently without relying on one of those Cores. This is where the “Jammer” came in: it rendered the Garlond-made cheat engines useless, thus making the machines using them easy pickings… Or so, it should have been. Yet...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Yes, it seemed that the Eorzeans assigned here have been exceptionally well trained in pure neural interface piloting, resulting in our personnel meeting unforeseen resistance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “You mean, that your men are not able to defeat slightly stronger than usual rabble”. As he stood up, his hand automatically went to his swords but… Forget it. If he used a regular blade in low gravity, the blood would get everywhere, and with a laser blade, the smell would be a problem. All in all, the inconvenience was worse than benefits from dealing with this waste of oxygen on the spot. He instead looked at the large screen that showed a wide angle view of the battle between his forces and the meager, under-equipped Eorzean garrison that was guarding their objective. As his cold blue eyes stopped on different skirmishes, the situation at that point was automatically enlarged, cameras from nearby units providing additional points of view. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>- (The way they move… It couldn’t be.) This would explain why they were having trouble dealing with them. The shadow of a smile danced on his lips: maybe this trip might not be a complete bore in the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “I’ll sortie myself.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>By the time she finally arrived on the battle bridge of the Eorzean Alliance F6501487 Defense Base, the battle had been raging for twenty minutes or so. Gauis Baelsar, former Garlean Legatus turned tactical consultant, was helming the battle in her absence. She unceremoniously sat in the Commander seat, and asked immediately:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Oi, Gaius. How come we’re having to deploy human pilots?” The base had autonomous artillery systems based on the Garlond Allagan Command Core units that should have been able to hold the line. “What’s going on here?”  He frowned at her lack of decorum, but they had been stationed here together long enough to know that her skipping formalities and disregarding seniority, while annoying, was a mark of confidence, so he didn’t want to squabble about this. Now was not the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Twenty minutes ago, an Agrius-class Garlean ship appeared in the vicinity of F6501487, and commenced hostilities. The automatic Allagan Defense System was activated -as per usual protocols, but after 10 minutes or so, more than 70% of the nodes started malfunctioning -our analysis has yet to bear fruit, but we suspect enemy interference. Fortunately, we are still able to partially control them from here; those that could not be remotely manned were removed, since they were as good as sitting ducks without external command,-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was interrupted by a dry, bark like laugh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Told you so</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Her disapproval of the complete reliance on these automatic systems were one of the reasons that led her to be sent here, so it was a bit ironic that they’d ended up in this situation. Thank the Twelve she had insisted on every soldier arriving here being trained until they were able to hold their own using their neural interface only. She was confident in their abilities, but...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Agrius-class is a bit much though… Reinforcements?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “A request for reinforcements was sent to the Alliance Command but… they might take some time to appear.” F6501487 was pretty remote, and the Alliance’s centralized decisional process could be pretty lengthy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “And the ‘emergency’ emergency frequency? They should arrive here in less than an hour if we call them.” He didn't know exactly who was behind this frequency, but still, he remembered she gave him those communication codes a while ago, telling him to message them if the situation ever got desperate. So, he did, but in the end, it would amount to nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “They were notified as well, but… We will not be able to hold on until they arrive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Eh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “A few minutes ago, a Shinryu-type machine arrived and… They’re curb stomping our units.” He switched the main display to the footage of that mysterious mech making short work of their hard-trained fighters. “At this rate, it won’t be long before they’ll have mowed through our whole defences, and we’ll be left at their mercy before any help could reach us.” Its speed, capabilities and efficiency were indeed far above what rank and file pilots could handle, so it flew around unchecked, effortlessly reaping kills like wheat during the harvest season. “I suggest we evacuate the base using emergency warp procedures.” He would have given the order himself, but unfortunately, he was but a mere “consultant”. Even though their tacit organisation made it so no one here would bat an eye before executing his orders, for something so important, she had to take the decision as the commander of this base.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “No, can’t do.” She clicked her tongue irritatedly. “This base was established because F6501487 hosts unusual Allagan relics that cannot fall into Garlean hands.” So they were supposed to defend it to the last soldier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “What? I’ve never been told about this…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “They didn’t tell you…?” Another annoyed click of tongue. “... Of course they didn’t.” Lots of people near the Alliance's upper brass did not trust Gaius’s change of heart, and even more thought that since he had had one, he could have another one. He frowned: his request to evacuate early might be taken as an attempt to facilitate the enemy plans… She cut his line of thought before it could go any further: “Old man, if you have extra brain cells to waste on useless things, then think of a way to solve this.” A mysterious technology that disabled the autopilot on their machines was already a pain to deal with, probably any other similar base would have already been crushed. Add that unit to the mix… She looked at the footage, frowning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-  (Wait a second.) The way they moved, avoiding and deflecting attacks with the least possible effort and the simplest movement, the way they carried themselves around the battlefield, wide open to attacks as if in provocation, incapacitating the enemy in one single manoeuvrer, then never looking back to check whether the defeated could still attack, thoroughly disregarding them as </span>
  <em>
    <span>not worth their effort</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but instead, already looking for the next enemy that seemed like they might last more than a few seconds; a mix of feral might and efficient elegance that was all too familiar. (These fuckers…!) She opened the general communication channel:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Attention to all personnel currently in battle. Regarding the Shinryu-class unit at the designed coordinates, manned units are forbidden to engage. I repeat, do not engage.” They wouldn’t stand a chance anyway, so they might as well cut their losses. “Remote controlled units and standard anti-ship batteries are to restrict his movement by opening fire at maximum power”. She answered the silent question behind the former legatus’ frown at her unconventional tactics. “It’s him… Zenos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Them piloting a Shinryu-like machine does not necessarily mean-... How could it be possible?” That person was already... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Don’t ask me, I’m asking you.” His incredulous face was proof enough that whatever was happening, he was oblivious to it. Probably the last of what could barely pass as morals these goddamned bastards had left Garlemald with him. “I’ll sortie myself”. As she briskly passed him by, he caught her arm, frowning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “You’re not thinking clearly.” She was usually cool-headed, to the point of appearing cold-hearted, but when that man was involved, one could see the cracks in her composure. Perhaps because he had been one of the few able to mar her otherwise perfect victory record, but… “As the commander of this base, you should stay here.” Still, someone had to stop this unit from penetrating their defences like a hot knife through butter... “I’ll go instead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> will go.” She attempted to pry his hand from her wrist, but her hand refused to apply any strength. “You-…! Unhand me right now!” The look of virulent outrage in her eyes, more than the crackling of gathering aether that he couldn’t see, made him loosen his grip, and she retrieved her arm, feeling a bit moody of her own outburst -so much for being a rational, reasonable leader. They stayed silent in this awkward atmosphere for a few breaths, before she reluctantly clarified. “You have more experience in tactical management, so it’s better if you were the one to supervise this operation.” She turned to exit the control room “I will hold him down, while you organise our defenses until reinforcements arrive.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>His bored sigh was swallowed by his mask, even as the Shinryu-II was twirling around, dodging easily the dense hail of fire thrown at him. This was barely a workout. Previously, he had faced those “unexpectedly strong” Eorzean soldiers, but for him, their skills were still too lacking. In truth, the fact that they fought using a parody of </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> style, yet were </span>
  <em>
    <span>so weak</span>
  </em>
  <span>, was somewhat frustrating. And now, they had suddenly changed tactics: manned mobile armors had retreated, leaving the field clear for their unrelenting artillery; an obvious attempt to stall for time. He hoped that they were not waiting for something as stupid as his machine running out of power -him running out of patience was more likely. Whatever reinforcements they were expecting, he wished they’d at least require a modicum of effort...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed he would know the answer to this sooner rather than later, as his senses -or  rather, his machine’s sensors- detected an unusual movement. He barely deflected the incoming blow on instinct -the inertia of the incoming attacker recklessly fast charge, and the pinpoint precision of their strike would have been enough to pierce the thick plate of his suit’s cockpit, ending the fight before it could even start- and already he had to back off to dodge the onslaught from the accompanying funnels, the dancing bladed drones trying briefly trying to slash at the weaker armor joints before docking back to their main unit -the G-Warrior Mk. XIV. Even without recognizing the iconic craft, this murderous overture was enough of an ID card. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. As the two mecha were facing each other tensely, he waited for a few breaths before turning on the short-range open comms:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “It’s been a while, my friend.” The Warrior of Light, his dearest enemy. The only one who had been able to hold her own against him. To challenge him. To make him feel something, feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>. To think that he would randomly find this person, who by all accounts, should be enjoying a peaceful retirement, on this remote corner of the universe... Truly, their fates were connected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “...” On the other side of the channel, radio silence. The fact that he somehow always called her his “friend” might have been something that was easy to find out, but the rest could not be replicated just as easily… She had felt it in her mechanical bones. The way he parried her blow, the subtle twist as he almost followed up with a punishing strike, only to repress his movement as she had slipped in the appropriate stance to counter under the cover of her drones. Even if someone had wanted to replicate this movement from old records, it would not have </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt </span>
  </em>
  <span>this true. But how? For now, she could only use the closest approximation to call him. “Zenos.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had hoped that she would be faced with an easily identifiable impostor, but now that her opponent was this close to the real deal, she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. She discerned a mix of perplexity, anger, annoyance, and the tiniest bit of... something that felt a bit like longing? She shook her head, attempting to clear her mind from stray thoughts. This bout of introspection could wait for later -the battlefield was not the safest place for self-reflexion, after all. However, if you wanted to bury your feelings under the thrill of the blade... This guy </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure </span>
  </em>
  <span>got you covered: she didn’t get much time to breathe before their duel started in earnest, leaving almost no space for idle ramblings. Almost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “I thought you had retired” When he found out about this, he had briefly considered </span>
  <em>
    <span>paying a visit</span>
  </em>
  <span> to where she spent her civilian life, hoping to ferret her out of it, but he gave up the idea when he heard that she had left the frontlines due to battle wounds. However, the ferocious barrage of attacks he was facing now didn’t feel like it came from someone who should be knitting mittens in convalescence instead of piloting a weapon of mass destruction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Not when the youngsters are so sloppy-” The G-Warrior’s right manipulator moved in an elegant swiping motion, and following its order, all of her machine’s deployed bladed funnels quickly spread out, then moved in to attack from this direction, while she also rushed in under their protection. All, bar </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He noticed this a step late as he was already busy parrying her assault, and almost on instinct, haphazardly deflected the blade coming from his rear right, the traitorous trick leaving an unsightly scratch on his Shinryu’s exoskeleton. “Look at yourself, still getting baited by this.” She didn’t gloat for long though, having to dodge hastily an energy blast of his suit’s main weapon fired in retaliation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “That’s still enough to take care of an antique in an antique.” He could tell from its smooth operation that the humanoid weapon she used had been carefully looked after, but… It was still the same old model, and he was pretty sure that some of the dents he could see on its plating had been left by himself when they last fought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Tsk.” She was more vexed for the G-Warrior than for herself: she was no Cid Garlond, but she worked hard to maintain it, OK? “Not everyone gets to have new toys everyday”. It was easy to see that the ominous looking armor he was piloting was a recent model, as it boasted fairly recent features. But still, there was no denying that it was a genuine Shinryu model; the data collected as the fight went on could not lie. And not everyone could pilot a Shinryu -only one person. Putting </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>in an enhanced version of that already overwhelmingly powerful design… She smiled wryly, but still taunted: “I don’t want to hear you whining that this thing was not tuned properly later on”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From their light hearted tone, one would have thought that they were old acquaintances passing by each other in the street, but the movement of their machines was a whole other story, every shot a narrow miss, every blow a dangerous graze. This was also reflected in the panicked state of their respective support teams, urging them </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>to take this any more seriously -the intensity of the sparks flying in the orbit of F6501487 made clear that they were not playing around- but the opposite -asking them to take a step back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Your Highness, squads 3 and 7 are on their way to assist-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Do not interfere.” His chilling tone made it clear that any attempts to obstruct his hunt would not be tolerated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “You should use the Blessing of Light, he’s not an opponent that should be taken lightly-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Thanks, Legatus Obvious, but I don’t remember installing a backseat on this craft-” </span>
  <em>
    <span>So please shut up</span>
  </em>
  <span>. No way she’d use this accursed system again; if she was not able to defeat him by herself, she might as well go knit mittens or something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one could intrude on their waltz of death; they were oblivious to the whirlwind of the battle around them, for they didn’t have the luxury of looking further than the blade at their throat, the cannon at their heart, and the one wielding it -and neither did they want to. It was a world where only the two of them existed, with no space for anything other than their fight -that is, until they both had to evade an intense and sudden energy surge that almost turned both of them to space dust, breaking their duel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t even need to look to identify the culprit. The only vessel that could pull out that kind of “jump strike”, firing its main cannon right as it warped on the battlefield was the “Fury’s Lance”, the main ship from the Ishgardian Order of Knight Dragoons. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Their reinforcements.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And the one that trusted her enough to get out of the way of that blast...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “You took your sweet ass time to arrive, for someone with nothing better to do, Estinien”. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “That’s because every time </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>have to call for help, I need mental preparations beforehand” The leader of the most idle battalion since the Dravanian/Ishgardian peace took in the ambient chaos. Disabled automatic defenses system, heavily armed Garlean forces battling wet behind the ears rookies broadcasting zero </span>
  <em>
    <span>Allagan Command Core</span>
  </em>
  <span> signals, and even... (What the…!) Someone who sure as hell should not be here. “You do have a knack for landing yourself in the worst situations.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Tch. Do you think I’m doing this for funsies?” The annoyance in her tone was laced with an imperceptible bit of guilt. She did not really have </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun</span>
  </em>
  <span> but… She couldn’t deny that she felt more in this past hour than in her whole stay in the orbit of this bland piece of rock. She was somewhat puzzled by this realization as she switched back to short range communications: “It seems that playtime is over.” They’d return to their own ships, swearing that they’d fight another day, and so on, and so forth... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Why must we be interrupted, time and time again...” With the arrival of these interlopers, it wouldn’t be long before the Garlean forces were defeated. Already, since she engaged him, they were steadily losing the tactical advantage brought by the use of Jammers, as regular Eorzean soldiers were still doing OK compared to their own conscripts. And now, the arrival of these elite players on the field, who would be unaffected by this secret weapon, nailed the coffin on their assault. However… “I must admit that we’re at tactical disadvantage but…” When had he even cared about the petty tactics of men? “I’m not leaving. I didn’t get enough of you…” It would never be enough. And throughout this exchange, he felt… “And neither did you of me, isn’t it, </span>
  <em>
    <span>my friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Heh.” Did she get enough? After being thrown in disgrace in this moldy corner of space for the Twelve know how long, was this enough? After spending such a long time here rusting here, with nothing worthwhile to sink her claws in, slowly dying of boredom, and for the first time in forever, being fed something that was able to make her frozen blood slowly thaw and sing, was this enough? Under her piloting helmet, her lips curved cruelly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course not</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Time to be irresponsible for once: others could handle the consequences. It might be a trap, but if it was, she would </span>
  <em>
    <span>crush </span>
  </em>
  <span>it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Since you’re offering yourself on a fine silver platter, I’d be stupid to refuse.” She added, with affected self-righteousness: “As if I’d pass a chance to capture an enemy commanding officer.” The G-Warrior fingers moved subtly, its grip on his weapon changing with a level of finesse she wasn’t even able to consistently reproduce with her own body anymore: “And once you’re in my grasp, I’ll peel your secrets right off your flesh, including whether you’re truly who you pretend to be or not.” And if she planned to do that, she might as well take this fight seriously. As she input her commands, a cold, metallic voice resounded in the cockpit, confirming her orders: [Disabling neural limiters 8 to 11/14. Augmenting aetherial conversion sensitivity/amplification to 4. Disabling remote command channels. Medium/Long range communication set to high priority only.] </span>
  <em>
    <span>There</span>
  </em>
  <span>. As the intensity of the neural connection changed, the G-Warrior visibly tensed up, then relaxed, and extended its arm toward the enemy armor in a taunting gesture, the movement uncannily </span>
  <em>
    <span>human.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>- “Come at me.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope this brought you some entertainment \o/<br/></p></blockquote></div></div>
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